


Ineffably ever after

by siephilde42



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Doctor Who References, Don’t copy to another site, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 01:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19713112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siephilde42/pseuds/siephilde42
Summary: Crowley reads a certain scrapbook and needs to make a decision. Unrelated to this, it turns out that Gabriel is not very nice, even if offered tea.





	Ineffably ever after

**Author's Note:**

> When rewatching Good Omens, I noticed I had misnamed Wensleydale and his family in this story as his name is in fact Jeremy Wensleydale. But he has been Wensleydale Crumble in my mind for a while now, so I'll just pretend that he and his family legally changed their names ;)

"What‘s this, love?", Crowley asked, good-humouredly. "You seem to have much fun with this scrapbook."

Aziraphale turned in his chair, giving the demon a very startled look. "Ah… It‘s nothing. Really." He blushed and closed said scrapbook hastily.

"I‘m disappointed. You have secrets? Okay, I know, in ordinary relationships there are such things as 'boundaries'. But I thought we were different", Crowley said, half-mockingly, half-seriously.

"I mean, it must be important if you get up all the time in the middle of the night to work with this little book."

"It‘s not all the time", Aziraphale protested.

"Eight nights in a row, angel. Of course, that‘s not 'all the time' but it seems significant. Well. Just wanted to ask. If you don‘t want to let me into it, fine.“ He spread his arms, palms up. “I guess I‘ll give you some privacy."

The thing with demons is that if they say "I‘ll give you ...", they are not necessarily telling the truth. So, the next day, when Aziraphale went out for grocery shopping, Crowley, naturally, gave in to his instincts and picked the scrapbook up from Aziraphale‘s reading desk.

Before opening it, he took a minute to think about it, though. _What if he has a valid reason for me to not see the contents of the scrapbook? Maybe it‘s a sort of diary where he_ _also includes doubts regarding our relationship. Regrets, even. Do I want to read that? It would be natural for him to have doubts, after all._

For a short moment, he actually considered putting it down again without reading it. _Oh, who am I kidding? If I don‘t open it now, I‘ll open it tomorrow. Or in the next century. Or whenever. I‘m too curious to let that go. Sorry, angel._

He took a deep breath and opened the first page.

_Huh? Drawings of flowers and a printout from the internet with images of black-white roses. What the hell is that?_

He turned some more pages to determine what it was all about.

For nine other pages, it was more flowers. Flowers in all variants, sketches and addresses of several local flower shops.

When he was almost convinced that the scrapbook was an expression of Aziraphale‘s undying love to flowers, he detected a drawing of another kind at page eleven. Crowley gasped and sat down heavily. It was a drawing of himself and Aziraphale, standing in a church below a large window. At the bottom there was an only half readable pencil line. “Of course, that is nonsense. It would have to be an informal wedding. His feet have suffered enough.“

_A goddamn wedding planner? You have to be kidding me._

He hesitated before going on, but then decided to go through with it. He swallowed hard and turned the next page.

Fifteen minutes later, he was thinking _Oh, I need to put this away now. Otherwise I‘ll be still crying when that goddamn angel comes back with his delicacies._

*

"Are you alright? You have appeared quite distracted sometimes lately, love."

"Uh, what do you mean?"

"Well, for example now. You didn‘t touch your tea for the last half hour", the angel pointed out.

Crowley jerked forward and grabbed the cup. "Well, I‘ll drink it now. Don‘t worry." He drank the lukewarm fluid in one large gulp.

"Yes, but I have the feeling that you have been... zoning out quite often for the last weeks. As if something important was occupying you."

"Nah, it‘s nothing that important. It doesn‘t mean anything. Don‘t worry about it, angel."

_But is that true? Doesn‘t it mean anything? If one had asked me a century ago how I thought about such ceremonies, I would have laughed and dismissed them as 'foolish demonstrations of affection'. Yet, I cannot help but feel …_

"… honey, are you even listening?"

_Oh, not again. I need to make up my mind about this._

*

"Huh." Crowley said some weeks later as he turned up the page of the Mucha wall calendar Aziraphale had bought. Of course the angel had bought it. Crowley would rather discorporate than admit he liked the style.

"What, love?", Aziraphale asked, looking up from the book he was reading.

_You are even cute with reading glasses. Wait, why do you even need them? Couldn‘t you miracle your eyes to be perfect?_

Aloud, he said "Well, according to the calendar, it‘s our third anniversary soon. Well – that what people would call anniversary, at least. Want to do something special for this?"

"Oh. I wasn‘t aware. Lost track of the time."

"Yes, me too. It‘s some wibbily wobbly stuff after all."

"Um, how about the Ritz? Not creative, but I mean, that‘s where we were three years ago."

"Sure, why not", Crowley replied. "Sounds lovely."

*

"You sure that you do want the room empty? I for my part enjoy the human background chatter", Aziraphale asked. "How do I look, honey?"

"Amazing."

"You didn‘t even look up!", the angel complained.

"Because you ALWAYS look amazing, angel. I don‘t need to look at you."

Aziraphale laughed, despite himself. "Oh, I cannot even be angry."

"As for the empty room, why don‘t you organise some musicians to make up for the missing chatter?"

The angel lightened up. "Now that‘s a splendid idea, dear. Will do."

So, about one hour later, two angels dined at the Ritz again.1 In the background, the musicians played a mix of Frank Sinatra and Queen songs.

When the dessert wine came, Crowley held up his glass. "I have sort of prepared a speech. Um..."

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. "A speech? How uncharacteristic for you, my dear."

The demon cleared his throat. "Well, it‘s a special occasion, so..." He coughed. "Ah… as you might remember, we met some 6,000 years ago. So, that‘s a pretty long warm-up phase for a relationship, even for immortal beings. Ah, um… And I thought, maybe..."

He lost track when he noticed how confused Aziraphale looked at him.

"Well, what I‘m trying to say is, I suppose… ah..."

"Yes?", Aziraphale said expectantly.

"Um, what I wanted to say is, I don‘t want to spend any other day of eternity without you. So, here‘s to the world and us, angel."

The angel smiled his happy smile and replied "Right back at you, love. To us and the world."

"That was more of incoherent rambling than a speech, I‘m afraid. But anyway..." The demon stood up from the table.

"What… what are you doing?", Aziraphale stammered.

"Why, what does it look like?", the demon asked in the most innocent voice he could manage.

"Well, you just dropped down on one knee, so I think you are either suddenly feeling unwell, or … Are you kidding me?"

"No, no, angel, I‘m quite serious", Crowley asserted and took his sunglasses off.

"Um, I would like to ask you if you want to make it … official... I probably should use prettier words, but I‘m still a demon, which means I‘m not always that good with putting feelings in words and… ah, hell. Angel, I have loved you for 6,000 years. So …would you make me the most happiest demon in the world and marry me?"

Aziraphale was speechless at first. Finally, he answered quietly "… you DID browse the scrapbook, didn‘t you? You don‘t need to feel obliged to indulge my silly..."

The demon interrupted him. "Yes, I did go through it. And it was beautiful. I‘m not just asking you to indulge you or something. I really want that. That splendid ceremony, the flowers and everything else."

The angel let sink these words in, then answered, his happy smile on the face again.

"In that case, yes, of course. I assume the planning would be up to me?"

"Naturally. No way in hell I will plan a wedding. I‘m a demon!"

*

"Honey, would you have a look at the invitation list? Tell me if you want to add or remove someone."

"I told you that I won‘t have any part in the planning, angel."

"That‘s what you said last week and the week before that. But you DID make suggestions for the arrangement of the flowers. And for the wine list, the music selection, and the dinner composition, and..."

"Fine. I‘ll skim over the list. But may I point out that you are procrastinating regarding the most important aspect, darling angel? Or did you finally think of someone to carry out the wedding?"

"Uh, no. Didn‘t think of someone yet. It would need to be someone whose authority has weight with both Heaven and Hell."

"If we want it to be valid there as well, I guess. Although I don‘t know why you are so fixated on that. I mean, it is not as if we will return to either place anytime soon, I suppose."

"Yes, but I want it to be valid. Now and forever. On all planes."

"You‘re a bit obsessed with that. Maybe we could just ask a random human to do this."

"No, no, no. That won‘t do."

"Who, then? We cannot choose a member of Heaven or Hell, obviously."

"Oh… Oh, I just had an idea. How about you read the invitation list and I will ask the person I have in mind."

"Ugh. Whatever. I will read the list, and you go ask… whoever you thought of."

When Aziraphale dashed out of the door, Crowley sighed.

"Ah. Well. Who do we have here?", he murmured and picked up the invitation list.

"Madame Tracy and Shadwell, obviously." He put a checkmark beside the names to indicate his approval. "Although I think it would maybe be a bit embarrassing. Inviting the woman who you briefly shared a body with and a weird witchfinder who accidentally discorporated you. Well. If he‘s okay with that, I suppose I‘m okay with that. Long as he doesn‘t invite Gabriel or something."

"Mrs. and Mr. Pulsifer. Why not. As long as we don‘t create the music using computer-based equipment. Check."

"Family Young with Dog & Family Moonchild (Pepper) & Family Brian (Brian) & Family Crumble (Wensleydale) – of course. Without them, we wouldn‘t be here, after all. So, check. … Good thing that Adam doesn‘t mind us having planned to shoot him and all."

After this, it was some regular would-be-customers of Aziraphale‘s bookshop. "They will need to be manipulated to misconceive some aspects of the ceremony, as well as the parents of the children, but it sure might be nice to have them there. Check."

When Aziraphale came back, Crowley called out to him. "List reads good. Added a couple of my neighbours as well."

"Uh, you trying to scare them off? Or who did you put on the list?"

"No, not the homophobic couple. Although it might be a nice idea to give them a heart attack by letting them watch an angel and a demon be united in holy matrimony. Hmm. … No, I invited those who helped you out when you were baking at my flat. They think we are adorable, by the way."

"Ah, _those_ neighbours. Yes. They are nice. Sounds fine. And what do you know?" He proudly beamed at Crowley. "The person I asked to officiate the wedding said yes! And it‘s someone who Heaven and Hell cannot ignore. So, am I good or what?"

"Of course you‘re good. You‘re good by definition. … Well done. Can I ask who it is?"

"Well, I asked him to come back with me to discuss the vows. He is a bit busy. Will be here in a second."

Not long after Aziraphale had said this, the door creaked and said person came in.

Crowley said "Uh… are you kidding?"

"No, no. He actually said yes to it. Meant it would be a nice change in comparison to his usual work."

"Uh, I can imagine."

*

"That‘s lovely", Madame Tracy said when she saw the flower bed made of black and white roses. "Thank you very much, dear", a very happy Aziraphale answered. Unlike for humans, the planning had not proven to be too stressful. Now that they were personae non gratae in Hell and Heaven forever, he didn‘t have to worry about frivolous miracles anymore. Could do them all the time. The flowers, the music, … all Aziraphale. Except for the food. _That_ was something he never had quite managed as well as people. Creating and preparing food. He was proud to have organised a crepe maker, however. Not a gadget – an actual human preparing crepes. Well, to be fair, he suspected that Crowley had thrown a little temptation in to get the – a bit unflexible - man to transfer his business from the park to a wedding. But since the temptation effectively only meant that the man accepted the quite handsome sum of money Aziraphale had offered him, he assumed it was fine. It had been more of a nudge, really.

When Tracy and Shadwell trotted to their assigned seats, the angel turned to Crowley and said "Tracy is so nice. A delight. But I wonder why Shadwell just gave me that strange look." The demon sighed. _So clueless, as always. "_ Jealousy, my angel. Jealously." "What, jealousy? Why?" "Well, it sort of _shows_ , angel. That the both of you shared a body temporarily." "It does?" "Chattering about the flowers and the remaining arrangement, you two seemed to - _synch_ , for the lack of a better word. I suspect that Shadwell cannot really relate to the aesthetic side of Madame Tracy, so of course he got jealous." "Oh. … Uh, but you aren‘t jealous of Tracy, are you? I mean..." "No, no. Now, that would be silly. It has been 6,000 years. Besides, I _can_ relate to your aesthetic side, even if I don‘t admit it." "You just did." "Ah, right. Damn."

"Aziraphale!", Anathema shouted out and threw herself into the arms of the angel. At the same time, Newt gave Crowley a somewhat awkward handshake. Even after more than three years, he had some difficulty to accept that he was now _friends_ with a demon. You should think that wouldn‘t be too hard too accept, being happily married to a witch. Yet… "Crowley!", his wife exclaimed and gave the demonic groom a big hug too. Aziraphale and Newt exchanged a sort of half-hug. "So… who did you get to officiate the wedding?", Anathema asked.

"Oh, it‘s sort of a surprise. You‘ll see", Aziraphale replied. Crowley snickered. "Hell of a surprise, yes. Ah, there are Adam and Pepper." He raised his eyebrows. "… and they‘re holding hands. Well, at least _they_ don‘t need 6,000 years to figure it out, apparently." He shot a glance in Aziraphale‘s direction which made the angel blush. "Yes, I‘m awfully slow on the uptake. I know, I know. Don‘t look at me like _that._ "

Dog came up to them, wildly jumping up at the angel and licking his hands. "You do have treats in your pocket, don‘t you." "Of course I do, demon. Here you go, Dog." "You realise that she won‘t willingly leave your side during the next hours, darling", Crowley groaned. "Oh, come on. She is such a good dog. Good dog, come here." _Great,_ Crowley thought. _A canine maid of honour. Wait, am I jealous? Yes, I am. Jealous of a dog._ _Simply just b_ _ecause he‘s at the moment showing her more affection_ _and attention_ _than me._ _Dial it down,_ _demon_ _._ Both amused and annoyed by his emotional response, he chuckled and bowed down to pat the former hellhound on the head.

Of course, Dog wasn‘t an actual maid of honour (even if she might have agreed to this, if someone had asked her, but Aziraphale and Crowley had decided to conduct the ceremony without designated witnesses, so there was that), so Adam grabbed her by the collar and guided her to his seating place.

The families Crumble and Brian arrived late, and when they arrived, Mr. Crumble and one of Brian‘s mothers were arguing. The sons and the respective spouses tried to mediate, but the two arguing parties were already too deep in it. "If you had been going some faster, you would have killed us." "I didn‘t. And you weren‘t looking properly before taking the turn."

The angel sighed and took a step towards them. Using a miracle, he filled their hearts with understanding. "My dear Mrs. Brian, my dear Mr. Crumble, there is really no reason for fighting. I mean, you are all safe and sound, it seems. - And when you come back out after the ceremony, you‘ll see that your cars are intact, too." Another frivolous miracle, but who was counting?

In the meanwhile, Crowley’s neighbours and Aziraphale‘s wannabe customers had arrived and taken their seats. "It‘s a nice small audience, isn‘t it?", Aziraphale asked Crowley. "Well, it is. Not as crowded as human weddings. I believe this is a rather tiny audience in human terms." "Hm. Would you have liked to have a bigger audience?" "Lord, no. I would be happy if it was just you and me. But _you_ planned a wonderful ceremony, and what good is a ceremony without an audience? I think it has just the perfect size, angel."

Aziraphale was wearing what he always wore – his white tartan, Victorian-ish jacket. Crowley, of course, was wearing black, a tuxedo matching the occasion, plus his sunglasses.

A small note on the people‘s perception during the wedding. The participants who had not seen the almost-apocalypse at the military base in Tadfield did not hear everything accurately. For example, the real names of Aziraphale and Crowley would be replaced in their minds with the human names Azira Fell and Anthony J. Crowley whenever they were mentioned. Additionally, when the officiating person entered the room, they saw an usual, elder priest in his soutane, sympathetic-looking and a bit chubby. The invitees who _had_ witnessed all the drama at Tadfield, however, each omitted a low gasp during the entrance of the officiant. Well, except for Adam, because he, of course, feared nothing anymore. (The same went for Pepper.)

The clueless attendants heard the following formulation.

"Dear fellows, we gather here to unite these two people in marriage. […] Anthony J. Crowley and Azira Fell, do you promise to love, cherish and honour each other through good and bad times till death do you part?"

For the witnesses of Armageddonot, it sounded more like this. "DEAR PEOPLE, WE GATHER HERE TO UNITE THESE TWO PEOPLE IN MARRIAGE. [...] CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE, DO YOU PROMISE TO LOVE, CHERISH AND HONOUR EACH OTHER THROUGH GOOD AND BAD TILL THE END OF TIME?"

At this, the grooms answered in unison "We do", fumbling the rings out of their jacket pockets to present to the officiant, one black, one white.

"May these rings serve as a reminder of not only this ceremony, but also of the depth of your love and attachment to each other."

"CROWLEY, PLEASE REPEAT AFTER ME: I, CROWLEY, PROMISE TO LOVE AND CARE FOR YOU, AZIRAPHALE, WITH ALL MY HEART AND SOUL AS LONG AS I LIVE. WITH THIS RING I THEE WED."

Crowley repeated the vow and put the black ring on Aziraphale‘s finger.  
  
"Azira, please repeat after me: I, Azira Fell, promise to love you and care for you, Anthony J. Crowley, with all my heart and soul for as long as I live. With this ring I thee wed."

Aziraphale repeated the vow and put the white ring on the demon‘s finger. _His_ demon‘s finger. _Finally_ , he thought, and smiled.

"I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU EQUAL PARTNERS IN MARRIAGE. YOU MAY KISS EACH OTHER."

*

"He‘s … not staying for the party?", Shadwell stammered. "No. He‘s awful busy all the time, you know. Just squeezed the officiation in between two jobs. Besides, he doesn‘t eat or drink. And what the hell should he talk about with the others?", Crowley explained.

"Yes. That‘s true. Well. Okay", the retired witchfinder said, with relief in his voice. "To tell the truth, I‘m glad he left. I mean, you don‘t know who … who is next."

With an effort, Crowley resisted to make the mean remark "Technically, he never left. He is always there, even if you don‘t see him, lurking in the shadows."

Shadwell chuckled. "Well, anyway, I‘ll see what wonders your husband whipped up for the buffet. Carpe diem, eh?"

 _Yes. Enjoy your life as long as you can. That‘s the spirit, boy_ , the demon thought and smiled while watching him staggering towards the food.

Aziraphale appeared beside him, munching at a crepe, his third one if Crowley had counted correctly.

"You should try some of the other food, you know. I mean, you put a lot of effort into the selection, darling."

"But … _crepes…"_ , Aziraphale said in such a tone that the demon burst into laughter.

"You could as well have married a crepe, you know", he mocked.

"Well, suppose I could have, at that. But that would have been a very _short_ marriage, my dear", the angel chuckled and licked his fingers clean.

The next hours, they had a splendid evening, chatting with the humans (and the antichrist), trying different foods and wines, enjoying the music and watching some funny videos Aziraphale had put together.

When the party was finally thinning out, Adam came over to them. "I didn‘t want to say anything because I was afraid it would ruin the party, but … don‘t you see her?"

"See whom, Adam?", Aziraphale asked. "I don‘t quite understand."

"Well, there has been a woman lurking around the whole day. She sat in the back during the ceremony and then went around sampling food the whole evening, without talking to anyone. When I mentioned her to Pepper, she said she couldn‘t see her. Or, rather, she _could_ see her, but only in the corner of her eye – as soon as she tried to focus on her, she disappeared from her view."

Something inside Crowley grew cold, very cold when he heard this. _This trick…_ With the calmest voice he could manage while everything in him screamed _Run. Run as fast you can,_ he asked the boy "Adam, could you point her out to me?"

"Sure", Adam said and pointed his finger at her, standing at the buffet in an elegant rainbow-coloured dress and scooping up the last rest of the pasta.

Even from behind, Crowley recognised her, and gasped. "Dear, are you alright? I believe I have never seen you so pale", the angel asked, worried.

"I‘m… I‘m quite alright", the demon said, but his unvoluntary shiver revealed the lie. "I… I think I‘ll go over there and ask her what she wants here."

When he started to go in her direction and Aziraphale followed, he considered telling him to stay back. But if she indeed planned to… well, then some meters more or less wouldn‘t matter, so he brushed away the irrational notion.

He barely recognised his own voice when he addressed her, croaking and very quiet. "What… what are you doing here? Why are you here and what do you want?"

The woman paused, put down her plate and turned towards him. "How did you… Ah. Of course, the boy. He sees me. Did not think of that. I hope I‘m not getting senile on my old days." She laughed a small laugh. "I wanted to wait until all others had left, actually."

Crowley tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. "Wanted to wait to do … what, exactly?" Several possible scenarios raced through his mind, none of them pleasant. _Oh no. We did finally go too far, didn‘t we?_

When Crowley was at scenario number six (which contained rather painful methods for ripping out wings), the woman interrupted his disturbed thoughts. "Do not worry, my dear", she said with a soft smile.

_Did she just call me 'my dear'? I must be going crazy._

"As to why I‘m here … Let‘s just say that I‘ve been a fan for 6,000 years. I could not pass up the opportunity to witness the ceremony, could I?"

_What? Just … what?_

"It is very unlikely that a union of this sort will happen ever again, after all."

She made a step towards Crowley, which caused him to stumble back in panic despite what she had just said. What if she was just doing one of her cruel games?

"I‘m not going to hurt you", she said to the trembling demon. "Just let me give you a hug."

Instead of backing off further, he froze in fear.

She drew him into an embrace and whispered "I actually _like_ you, Crowley."

Finally, he realised. _She‘s serious about this._

When she released him from the embrace, he began to laugh hysterically, so hard that tears ran down his face.

"You … you … _what?_ You‘re crazy."

"Well, maybe I am. Come here, Aziraphale", she said and gave the angel a hug too.

When Crowley had recovered from his hysteric fit, he repeated his question. "I‘m glad that you‘re not here to harm us, but _why_ are you here? I mean, you probably could also have watched from afar."

She gave him a radiant smile. "Well, apart from wanting to be a part of the fun, I actually wanted to hand you a wedding present."

She grabbed into her dress pocket and drew out an item.

"A pendant with two parts", she said. "Matching your rings. The white one is for you, Crowley. The other one is for you, Aziraphale."

[Description: Similar to the Yin Yang symbol, with the two parts as wings]

"It‘s … it‘s beautiful", Crowley said in a choking voice.

She disassembled the pendant into its parts and put it around their necks.

Finally, Aziraphale asked the obvious question. "That‘s very nice. Thank you for the present. But can I ask … who are you exactly?"

She just smiled at him.

"You are not from Hell, are you? You don‘t feel like it."

"No, dear. I‘m not."

"Heaven, then? But won‘t you get into trouble for giving us a present?"

"I don‘t think so", she said.

"Why not? What if someone tells God..."

At this, Crowley burst out in laughter again.

"Honey? Why are you laughing at me?"

"I … I‘m not laughing at you. I‘m laughing at the situation. You know, she … she really doesn‘t need to worry about anyone punishing her."

"You mind explaining why? Because I‘m starting to feel very stupid here", the angel cried out in confusion.

"Because God already _knows_. She has known _everything_ about us for 6,000 years", Crowley replied.

"But how..." When it finally clicked, Aziraphale gasped in shock and jumped back.

"I‘m so sorry for not recognising … _Ah_ … My ... _"_ , he stammered while doing a clumsy bow.

"It‘s okay, my dear. You do not need to bow", she said, beaming. "As I said, I‘m quite a fan."

With these words, she transformed into a small ball of light which illuminated the room and then collapsed and disappeared.

Aziraphale held up his black wing trinket in disbelief. "She gave us a _wedding present_." His shock morphed into something else. Glee and triumph. "A bloody wedding present from..."

"Well, it appears that we don‘t need to worry anymore, angel."

*

*

*

"You swapped bodies! That‘s how you rascals did it!"

Aziraphale turned towards the door of his bookshop, just to see his worst nightmare come true – Gabriel and Beelzebub coming at him.

"F**k", Aziraphale said to himself, once again.

He gave Gabriel his most charming smile. "I‘m afraid I don‘t know what you mean."

"Oh, cut it out, _liar_." Behind Gabriel, there were several angels and demons coming up.

"Uh, do you all want a cup of tea, perhaps?", Aziraphale stammered. With horror, he saw two of the demons carrying a burning log. "No? I have some really nice brands and flavours stored here, you know. It might be nice..." With a pang, he realised _If they are here, they will be at our flat too, getting him._ He glanced at his phone.

"Don‘t even think about it. Besides, it is too late. Michael and Hastur are already there."

Despite his own trouble, Aziraphale could not help picturing Michael splashing a bucket of holy water at his demon and shuddered.

"Burn him!", Gabriel shouted. At this, several demons grabbed Aziraphale and jerked him forward to the log.

He wanted to shout, but couldn‘t. The flames were dancing before him, and he felt the heat on his face. _Oh. That is really it, isn‘t it? Bugger._

"Any last words, traitor?", Gabriel asked, an almost devilish smile on his face.

Aziraphale swallowed and replied "You are not very nice, you know."

Without commenting this, the archangel made a swift motion to signal the demons to throw him over the log. Aziraphale stumbled forward, fell …

… and wondered why he didn‘t go up into flames. He was lying across the wooden item, flames now all around him. Surely it should hurt at contact? But instead, he didn‘t feel _a thing_. He was just lying there in a very awkward position, which was a tad uncomfortable, but nothing more. Involuntarily, he chuckled. "Hey, lads. You sure you brought hellfire?"

Gabriel stepped towards the fire, confused. Had the demons made a mistake? He was not the most brightest angel in Heaven (as should be clear by now), but his next move was stupid, even for him. He actually stretched out his hand and held it into the fire. It instantly caught fire, as did his sleeve. If if hadn‘t been for Beelzebub, the flames would probably have engulfed him whole and eaten him up. But instead, Beelzebub grabbed the flask of holy water from Gabriel‘s side pocket they had brought as backup/safety measure and quenched the flames on the screaming archangel.

An awkward silence resulted. "Y… you just saved me", Gabriel stammered. Beelzebub looked very uncomfortable. "I suppose I did. Let‘s … never talk about that again."

"Agreed. But what about this confounded traitor?"

"Maybe they swapped bodies again?" Beelzebub dragged Aziraphale out from the fire, emptying the rest of the flask on his head. Again, nothing happened (which is not surprising as Aziraphale was, indeed, Aziraphale).

"Nope. Hmmm. I must confess, I don‘t understand that", the Lord of Flies said.

Gabriel groaned in pain, clenching his mangled hand.

"Oh, I _do_ hope Hastur has had more luck."

*

Well, he hadn‘t. In fact, Crowley had been laughing at him for some time now.

Sure, he was wet, but he was _just_ wet. Additionally to letting Michael drenching him in holy water, Hastur had just thrown a ball of hellfire at him and was now having a choleric fit because this had had no effect, either. Furiously, he discorporated all of the demons he had brought with him. He almost obliterated Michael as well, but caught himself at the last moment, not least because Michael was holding up a bottle of holy water defensively.

"You damned, treacherous, slimey … _snake"_ , Hastur shouted at Crowley.

Hastur probably would have thrown more creative insults at him, but before he could do so, the door of the appartment opened, letting the bookshop party in, meaning that Beelzebub was shoving Aziraphale into the room, Gabriel and the others close behind.

When he saw Aziraphale, Crowley stopped laughing. "You all right, angel?"

"Well, _I_ am. It‘s Gabriel who seems a bit worse for wear", Aziraphale said, unable to suppress a gloating smirk. He still didn‘t understand what was happening, but appearently neither classical weapons from Heaven nor Hell seemed to be able to hurt them, whyever this might be.

Gabriel‘s face was contorted with pure hate and contempt. "Oh. I have _had_ it. Time for _other_ measures."

Michael looked at him. "You mean..."

"Yes, damn right that‘s what I mean", Gabriel shouted at the other archangel, so spiteful that Michael flinched back.

Gabriel shouted. "Metatron! I demand to talk to you!"

Of course, him being an archangel, he didn‘t need tricks to call on Metatron. So, the huge face appeared almost instantly, hovering in the flat.

"What is the matter, Gabriel?", the booming voice asked.

"What‘s the matter? These two traitors are, with all their tricks. I ask you to smite them down."

Aziraphale gasped. That couldn‘t be good. They couldn‘t be immune against _that_ , could they? He glanced over at Crowley, who seemed surprisingly unaffected.

There was a pause before Metatron answered. "Do you think that‘s necessary?"

"Yes, I do think it‘s necessary. They have been around for too long, meddling with the great plan."

When there was no answer after that, Gabriel grew impatient.

"Come on. Destroy them. We all are displeased with them. We yearn for these troublemakers to be punished. You don‘t want the other archangels leaving Heaven too, do you?"

Aziraphale gasped. Had Gabriel just … threatened _her_?

When the voice spoke again, there seemed to be a little smile in it, which surprised Aziraphale.

"Well. I suppose it is necessary for the greater good..."

 _Oh no_ , Aziraphale thought. _Oh no_.

He felt Crowley‘s firm but gentle touch, gripping his hand.

With a whisper, the demon said "I think it will be all right. And if not… well, it has been a splendid time with you, angel."

Aziraphale forced himself to smile at Crowley. "Right back at you, love", he said quietly. He was still focusing on Crowley‘s beautiful golden eyes when the flash of light and thunder came down.

*

"How… how can that be?" Gabriel sounded as if he was close to a heart attack.

 _Is it even possible for an angel to discorporate from an heart attack?_ , Beelzebub wondered . They had never heard from such a thing, but they were sure that it would happen right _now_ , if it were possible. As for Michael, the second archangel seemed very pale. The Lord of Flies would have found the desolate state of the archangels funny under other circumstances. But this…

Hastur just stood there, stammering incoherently so badly that Beelzebub feared they would need to discorporate him in order to 'reboot' his mind, a term they had once picked up from Crowley, even if they had not grasped the rest of the presentation.

Suddenly, Beelzebub understood something the archangels were not able to get. Because the archangels could not imagine it. Beelzebub‘s imagination might not be as good as Crowley‘s, but it was better than an usual demon‘s. Or an unflexible angel‘s, after all.

Silently, the Lord of the Flies glanced at Metatron. _So that‘s how it is. No chance, then._

"Gabriel. I think it might be better to go home", Beelzebub said to the archangel.

"Go home? But… but..." He was almost wailing when he begged Metatron "You need to..."

"To what? You all just witnessed me trying to smite them. Did not work so well."

"Not at all, you might say", Crowley commented, smiling brightly.

"What else do you want me to do, Gabriel? I cannot do any more."

"But … there needs to …"

Beelzebub sighed and touched Gabriel at the shoulder. "Gabriel, just let it _go_."

"I ...", the archangel gave them a very pained look. "I … all right. Whatever. Let‘s … let‘s go home."

Michael was still looking at Aziraphale and Crowley, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Finally, the archangel gave up and grabbed Hastur, who was still babbling and would probably not stop babbling for a while, guiding him out.

When the appartment door finally closed behind the mixed party, Crowley let out a long breath, deflating.

Aziraphale was as confused as he had been when he had laid sprawled across the burning log.

"What the hell happened? Why are we unscathed? Did you do this? Because I know _I_ didn‘t."

Crowley laughed out. _His_ angel, sweet as he was, wasn‘t the brightest angel, either. Always so slow to catch on.2 Well. He didn‘t care.

He pointed at Metatron, who was still lingering in the flat. "Why don‘t you ask …?"

"Wait. So _you_ … ? But how… Oh, hang _on_." He grabbed below his waistcoat, bringing out his necklace, staring at the small black item.

"The pendant. _Protective charms?_ Honestly?"

There was this smile in Metatron‘s voice again. "Honestly. And not just against hellfire and holy water but against all other forms of Death too. You cannot be discorporated anymore. Good to know, is it not?"

With that, Metatron blinked out and disappeared.

"So what … wait … so it‘s literally, uh, 'happily ever after'?", Aziraphale asked.

"Well, it seems so", Crowley said and smiled.

THE END (OR THE BEGINNING, DEPENDING ON THE PERSPECTIVE)

1Well, not exactly, but that‘s how the lyrics go.

2 On that note: Because Aziraphale is slow on the uptake as always, he won‘t fully realise the implications of Gabriel‘s formulation „ You don‘t want the _other_ archangels leaving Heaven too, do you?“ for another 200 years. And just then he will notice a) that Crowley recognised _her_ at their wedding, which would be quite unusual if he had been an ordinary angel before the Fall b) that he never had seen Raphael in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> An illustration of the pendant can be found at  
> https://siephilde42.tumblr.com/post/186116539589/illustration-for-my-fanfic-on-ao3-ineffably-ever (It's also my AO3 icon now)


End file.
